


Machinist

by madspace



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dialogue Heavy, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, RAB Web Series, Regional At Best Era, Stream of Consciousness, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 12:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16703071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madspace/pseuds/madspace
Summary: "I just wonder if we can put on enough of a show with two people..."Title from Japanese Breakfast's Machinist.





	Machinist

**Author's Note:**

> lol i'm back
> 
> this is not at all accurate and the timeline is probably off but this is a stream of consciousness so don't be mad. also dialogue heavy, sorry bout it 
> 
> also watch the regional at best: web series because this will probably make no sense otherwise  
> also do that for your soul

“Tyler stop sulking,” Mark grunted, fussing with his camera. 

“I’m not sulking.”

“ _Dude_. You’re sulking.”

They’d been on the road for nearly four hours, I-75 being the most uninteresting, _flat_ drive of Josh’s life as he sat at the wheel, yawning into his cheap cup of lukewarm joe, courtesy of McDonald’s. Mark was riding passenger; he demanded it that morning, deeming shotgun best for videography purposes while Tyler, who had just woken up from a two hour nap, sat brooding on the mattress in the back of the van.

“Shut up,” he muttered, unlocking his iPhone.

“You okay, dude?” Josh asked, peering at Tyler through the rearview mirror. Tyler bit his cheek.

“I said I’m fine. Could you leave it alone?”

Mark rolled his eyes and Josh tried his best to ignore the snub. The drummer was becoming more and more aware of the fact that Tyler could be a bit of an ass when he got into one of his moods; it was nothing personal.

“Well, Nick ain’t coming back, so you better get over it, man,” Mark huffed. “Rolling…” 

Tyler sighed and rolled over so he wouldn’t have to stare at the back of his buddies’ heads. Bothered by their very existence, the word  _ Choke  _ looped over and over in his conscious.

“The show will still be amazing,” Josh said to no one in particular. 

Tyler tuned him out.

 

“What can we do for ‘ya?”

“Hey, um, we uh… we’re just wondering where to go,” Josh explained as he put the gear into park. They didn’t have money for the gas air conditioning would require so the windows were rolled down for ventilation. Well, not that it helped them now considering they were being stopped by festival staff and it was hellishly hot on this particular July morning. 

“Um, what’cha looking for?” a woman in the neon work vest asked in a cheery voice. The volunteers of this music fest were already nicer than any of the staff at the Columbus dives they usually played. It was somewhat of a relief because Tyler was already in a bad mood and Josh wanted to make it into the festival grounds without getting kicked out for the lead singer’s shitty attitude.

“Are you camping? Are you playin’?” 

“Ah, yeah, we’re playing and we’re also camping,” Josh replied as he handed Tyler his wallet which was sitting up front.

“Okay, um-”

Tyler interrupted, “So why don’t we just go _camping_ -”

“Yeah, you can set up all your stuff and then come back, get your passes if you need to, check in, and um… figure everything out,” the woman rambled, hands awkwardly hovering over her stomach as she spoke to a Tyler that wasn’t even facing her. His eyes remained on his phone screen as he checked his emails.

“Go ahead and park in there, then go up to the barn and see what they can do for you,” she finished, pointing up the hill in a somewhat noncommittal fashion.

“Hey, I want a shot of the back of your heads as we drive in,” Mark announced. “Tyler, could you sit up front please.”

“Let me drive,” he yawned while Mark hopped out to sit in the back.

Tyler and Josh got out of the van to switch seats, smiling impishly as they passed one another.

Tyler buckled his seatbelt and fiddled with the rearview mirror, adjusting it, since Josh had a longer torso than he. Turning the wheel, the singer let out his first laugh of the day as he glanced over at his best friend.

“‘Hi, are you able to… stand?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Well, then you’re _hired_ ’,” Josh grinned.

“‘You’re good’,” Tyler added, steering the car slowly, the gravel making that little crackling noise as the wheels worked against it. 

“‘Well what do I need to know?’ ‘Just wear this vest!’”

“‘ _Just_ -’” Tyler laughed alongside him, throwing his head forward as he wheezed. 

“Idiots,” Mark snorted, as he stopped recording.

Tyler nodded, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth: “We are.”

 

“Wait, so a-again, are we saying it at the same time, or-?” he asked, trying not to let the anxiety seep through his poorly constructed facade.

Josh was frustrated because he just couldn’t get the Remedy Live taping. It wasn't a secret that he hated public speaking and this was just another form of that. But Tyler wanted to do it and he’d do nearly anything Tyler wanted. 

The singer peered over at him, tenderly, “I feel like we’re making this a lot more work than it is. You say, ‘Hi we’re twenty one pilots, you’re listening to Remedy Live’. And then I’ll say— I’ll come in with the thing.” 

Josh’s heart raced. “Okay.”

The first take, Josh kept sighing.

The second take, he couldn’t even get through the band’s name.

Perspiration began to form on Josh’s forehead when Tyler turned to him, and offered him a reassuring smile: “I’ll get it.”

The pianist swiveled back around to the camera and flashed his crooked teeth, endearingly. 

It only took him two takes to get it. Josh admired that.

 

Galleria stage, aka, the most unimportant stage in the furthest, most isolated location of the festival was where twenty one pilots were going to be performing their first (and only) music fest of the Regional At Best Tour. It was just past one in the afternoon when Tyler and Josh took to the stage and began playing the chords of Ode to Sleep, Josh’s favorite live song at the moment. The crowd was hooked and it was times like this, with an audience of over 80 people, that Tyler felt his best. Josh, too. And Ichthus was a Christian Rock music festival which coincidentally tended to be their main demographic considering a majority of their fanbase back home were Christians. It was reassuring, to say the least, because they knew the crowd would be respectful enough to not, you know, pee on their equipment or throw water bottles at them just because Tyler missed a few chords here and there. 

The two hung around for a bit after their first thirty minute set, to catch up with some audience members—Tyler didn’t like the word “ _fan_ ”. 

“We’re no one. We don’t have ‘ _fans_ ’.”

“Fair enough,” Josh shrugged as he put his arm around some girl for a picture. 

Mark kept his camera trained on Tyler as he hugged a girl about his age.

“Did you like the set?” the singer asked her friend as he pulled him in for a hug as well.

“Dude, of course I did!” the guy scoffed, happily. “Your music is real cool; really different, too.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, man,” Tyler grinned, shit-eating and proud. His ego was soaring even though they were getting paid next to nothing for the gig.

“Yeah,” the girl piped in, “I couldn’t wait to hear you guys today. I remember when y’all came to ‘Tucky last year- but there were more of you. And a different drummer.” 

Tyler closed his mouth allowing to Josh jump in.

“Yep! We have a new lineup now,” he chirped, brushing a hand through his curly locks, “but just as much heart.”

“Well, I definitely like the new sound y’all have going on,” she smiled. “It’s really quite a spectacle.”

Tyler smiled, his brown eyes warm, and Josh… well, he couldn’t help but smile too.

“Thank you; we really appreciate the support.”

 

One-thirty in the morning rolled around and they were almost finished setting up their tents. Everyone was in a vile mood, the long hours that were the past twenty-four draining and ruinous. Josh had stopped talking altogether and Mark could barely get words out of a near delirious Tyler who was out of it as he recorded the last part of that particular web series.

“Tyler. Mark. Could you guys, like, stop recording and help me set up the tent?” Josh asked, tone not without a bite to it. Tyler rolled his eyes:

“Coming, wife.”

“Dude, _seriously_? Stop being a dick.”

Mark shut off his camera, and walked to the van to grab his own, personal tent. _‘I’m not sleeping with you losers! I see enough of you as it is,’_ he’d said days previous when they were purchasing their tents at a local Walmart. Josh was planning on getting his own too, but something about Tyler made him decide against it. Maybe it was the fact that he knew Tyler hated sleeping alone; that it could keep him up at night because Tyler had a tendency to get all homesick and existential. Even leaving Columbus earlier that morning was a challenge for Tyler seeing as he almost started crying on the drive out. They wouldn’t be returning to the six-one-four until the end of July, and while this was liberating to Josh it was pretty taxing on Tyler.

After they put up the last of the tent, Josh felt what he could only assume was the beginnings of relief course through his veins. 

“I’ll be right back, man,” Tyler yawned, scratching his head. Josh unzipped the entrance and crawled in before velcro-ing the top up so he could strip out of his clothes in private. It was muggy and extremely buggy out tonight; Josh hated feeling sweaty and he hated even more that he was bunking on solid ground. But, hey, beggars couldn't be choosers. 

Peeling off his sweat and musk stained shirt, he tossed it aside before shackling off his dark skinny jeans. Why the hell did he think it was a good idea to wear black on black in the middle of summer? 

“I had to pee in a field because the porta potties were too far and there’s no lights,” Tyler told him upon his return.

“Not bad,” Josh told him. “Seems sorta punk rock if you ask me.”

Tyler snorted.

“I can’t believe how well that went,” Tyler continued, still riding off the high that was that earlier set. “Our first big show without Nick, and it was perfect.  Well, except for me forgetting to do my thing before the the chorus of Lovely- but you get the point!”

“You were amazing, Ty.” The pianist watched Josh move from his back to his side, propping his head up with his fist. There was momentary silence as the boys stared at each other before Tyler caved.

“I don’t deserve to have you in the band.” And then: “As my bandmate.”

“Dude. Why would you say something like that?” 

Tyler chose not to respond and instead, began to tug off his maroon pants. 

“It’s hot,” he mumbled.

“Tyler,” Josh pressed, placing his hand on his friend’s bare thigh.

Tyler’s gaze glued itself to the area where sticky flesh met sticky flesh.

“You’re so _good_ — you— and you have something I don’t have. Something I may _never_ have... and I don’t want you to leave me, but I respect you,” Tyler breathed, he was just so damn vague, “so you can leave anytime you want. And I definitely won’t try to stop you. But I want you to stay." A pause, "I want you to stay and play music with me.”

“ _Tyler_ ,” Josh hushed, “I’m not leaving. And you’re not the only one who wants this. I mean, I’ve waited a year for this moment, for this tour. I… We’re doing the rock star thing. And I’m _here_.” Tyler blinked back tears as Josh pulled him in for a soft hug.

They could hear crickets and heavy breathing, two men trying their best not to keep it together as they clung to each other in a tent in a Kentucky field.

“You’re my best friend, Josh.” 

“I know.” 

He pressed a warm kiss to Tyler’s temple and held him close. Shaky breaths.

“I’m sorry I’m a dick sometimes. And today…”

“You _are_ a dick,” Josh agreed. “Sorry I suck at radio interviews.” Tyler laughed.

“You don’t 'suck', Josh.” The drummer sighed as Tyler brought a calloused hand up to his cheek. They stared at each other for a moment as they touched and gazed and _dreamed_ before pulling away. Not now. Not now.

“It’s hot,” Tyler repeated for the second time that night as he shuffled about the tent, trying to get comfortable.

“Yeah.” 

“And you kinda _smell_ , dude,” the singer continued, choosing not to pick up on Josh’s ‘I’m tired, let’s go to sleep’ cues. “Mark’s gonna have to go pick us up some shower in a can. We don’t want the audience to smell us from the stage.”

“Mm… Goodnight.”

“... Josh?”

“Hm...?” 

“Can we like… You _know_ …?”

Josh groaned. “Tyler, it’s too hot to cuddle.”

He whimpered and rustled about on his sleeping bag. Josh sighed, rolling over and extending his arm out to his bandmate.

“You are so high maintenance.” 

“I know,” Tyler agreed, scooting over into Josh’s personal space.

“Josh?”

“Tyler," he said, irritated.

“I, uh. Um, goodnight.”

* * *

The next evening, Josh found himself unable to stop swooning as Tyler strummed to the tune of You and I as he channeled his inner Ingrid Michaelson; twenty one pilots had somehow managed to attract a group of about thirty people to play ukulele camp songs near the festival bonfire. Josh was across the way from Tyler, a beer in his hand as he watched his best friend win the hearts of all the girls and boys in the general vicinity. But it was after his third beer that he realized that maybe he didn’t want to be "best friends" anymore; the need to kiss Tyler was very present and very strong.

Catching the drummer’s stare through the flames of the fire, Tyler bid his crowd farewell and slinked over to Josh.

“Did you like the song?” he asked, doe eyes fluttering as he smiled somewhat… flirtatiously?

“Did I like it?” Josh hiccuped. “You coulda been. You coulda _been_ Ingrid!”

Tyler chuckled, looking down at his grey vans, shyly. _Shyly_? Please.

“Tyler. I’m!” The younger man’s eyes shot back to Josh’s. “I, you should kiss. We should kiss now.”

Tyler's cheeks turned a little pink and he nodded nodded before leaning forward to chastely press his lips to Josh’s. However, they were gone as quickly as they had come.

“That wasn’t a kiss,” Josh slurred. Tyler puffed his cheeks out before gruffly grabbing Josh’s face and pulling him in for real one.

‘ _Score_ ,’ Josh grinned into the kiss, tangling his fingers in Tyler’s tufts of chocolatey brown hair. The beers were making him bold, but Josh felt like he made the conscious decision to use a little tongue. Tyler squeaked, surprised, but not turned off by the sloppiness.

The pianist pressed a series of small pecks to Josh’s lips before pulling away and smiling wryly. 

“Wow,” Josh managed, stunned. 

“I know,” Tyler agreed, interlocking his fingers with Josh’s. 

“Fuck. Ah, you’re _really_ heckin’.”

Tyler snorted as he realized that fragment of a sentence was all he was getting, “Eloquent.” 

“Can we do that again?”

“Maybe later, when you’ve sobered up and don’t smell so bad.”

Josh said nothing as Tyler brought the drummer’s knuckles to his lips and kissed each one.

* * *

They’re back in Columbus, but only for a few days. They play a show at the New Albany high school and they don’t get rained out. God’s will is real and Tyler Joseph believes today.

Josh wants to bring up Ichthus, but Tyler’s high strung tonight seeing as a bunch of his high school friends showed up and really dug Guns For Hands. They’re all going back to Miles’ place and Tyler wants Josh to come. 

_ “Come on, dude, it’ll be fun.” _

But it  _isn't_  fun. Tyler’s Worthington Christian friends aren’t on the same page Josh is on and it’s painful to see the singer regress. Josh figures they wouldn’t have been friends in high school. Tyler’s so good at being the center of attention, a natural light in dark room. Josh stumbles over his words and doesn’t land one joke. 

Josh leaves and Tyler doesn’t notice.

* * *

Chicago is the furthest they’ve travelled thus far and Tyler is excited to play music for people who don’t know them. Josh is glad to be out of Ohio. He hasn’t felt right the past week being back. Michael Gibson joins them for this one to the Mark’s delight; he’s sick of third-wheeling. They do a radio interview the morning of the show and Tyler talks while Josh watches, trying not to crumble as Tyler places a hand on his knee. It’s the little things like this that are keeping Josh on edge. They still haven’t had the talk so Josh really has no clue if they’re an item or just screwing around-- er, _messing_ around. They’ve only ever gone as far as to slip each other some tongue. And Josh loves that, but he also loves clarity. Tyler is sort of out of his league and Josh loves twenty one pilots, so he doesn’t want to push his chances.

* * *

“Josh.”

They’re at a beach in Michigan, Michigan Beach, and Tyler wants to buy a colorful lucha libre mask. 

“What do you think of this one?” 

“Looks sick, man.”

“You said that about the other two.”

“They all looked great,” he snaps, before turning and heading for the shore.

Tyler pays for the white one with the yellow-black accents and heads after Josh. 

“Dude! What’s up?” he calls as he jogs towards the drummer.

“Nothing’s up, _dude_.”

“ _Josh_ ,” Tyler groans. “Quit being passive aggressive. You’re clearly pissed off.” 

Josh’s jaw went tight and his nostrils flared. “So you’re the only one allowed to get pissed?”

Tyler’s eyes softened and he stepped a smidge closer to Josh.

“I’m only trying to understand.”

“Tyler… What… What are we?” 

Tyler knit his brows. 

“Twenty one pilots?”

“Dude, _fuck_! No, not the band. What are _we_? You. And _me_.” 

Tyler’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ shape as he began to realize what Josh was trying to get at.

“Well, what do you want to be?” he asked, softly, eyes trailing their way around Josh’s face. It was a good face.

“No, no, _no_. You are not putting this on me, Tyler. I want to know what _you_ want-”

“Okay guys, I want a shot of you eating,” Mark interrupted, as he approached the boys with a 12-pack of Taco Bell tacos. 

Josh wanted to scream.

“Okay,” Tyler shrugged, removing his beach towel from around his shoulders and setting it on the stand. 

Josh was pulsing with an anger he hadn’t felt since he was seventeen. As they ate their tacos, Josh found he was to upset to socially participate, leaving Tyler to record the commentary for the seventh installment of web series.

 

“Michael and I are gonna bring back pizza. You two need to work out whatever is going on between you guys,” Mark demanded before slamming the door to the hotel room. After the beach, they’d come back to the hotel to unwind for a bit. The guys had plans to wander around the metro area but the tension between the two band members had grown so bad that Michael and Mark decided they couldn’t take it anymore.

Josh crossed his arms and Tyler rolled his eyes, before plopping down on the bed.

“Josh, this is stupid. This argument is highly unfounded.”

“My feelings are completely valid, Tyler—!”

"Well, what do you want me to say? You're not being clear!"  


"How can you not know what I'm saying? You're supposed to know, you're my best friend!" Josh argued.

 

“I love you.”

 

They glared at each other, Josh’s ears were ringing.

“You— _What_?”

“You heard me.” Vermillion painted Tyler’s cheeks as he chickened out of saying it again, his reply barely audible.

“You’re a dick, you know that?” Josh spat.

Tyler’s jaw fell wide open and his face lost all color it had just gained. “W- _What_?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for the past week and you have given me nothing. I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life _pining_ , you ass.”

Tyler ran his tongue across his bottom lip before stand up from off the bed. He was definitely tuned in now.

“Dude… I would _never_ —”

The water works began as tears slid down Josh’s cheeks, hot and salty.

“I— I _love_ you, and I thought you knew that. I mean, you’re my best friend, Josh.” And then, softly: “You mean everything to me.” 

Josh hiccuped, a lump in his throat and his stomach twisting into knots.

“I thought you were _straight_.”

And then the laughter came, and it came hard. Tyler’s arms wrapped around Josh’s as he pulled him in for wet hug.

“You really are dense,” Tyler chastised, but not without love. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t care. I do care. I’ll be better about communication from now on. Definitely.”

And those words alone were enough for Josh to start feeling _it_. Wanted, loved, sappy or maybe all of the above. He leaned forward to kiss Tyler, yearning for lips against his. Tyler's softness was a delicacy that relished in when he could because sometimes it would vanish for days at a time without any notice of when it'd come back.

“Can I make it up to you?” Tyler mumbled as he pressed his lips to Josh’s cheek bone, gently.

“How’s that?”

Tyler’s hand slid downwards and he copped a feel for Josh’s rear.

“Oh.” And then, when Tyler pulled his hand forward to cup Josh through the front of his boxers: “ _Oh_ …”

“Yeah?” Tyler rasped into Josh’s neck as he peppered the tender skin with warm kisses.

Josh nodded, voice incapable of affirmation and Tyler sunk to his knees. 

He fumbled with the button of Josh’s black skinnies, nervous fingers unzipping the zipper.

“Cool briefs,” he mumbled nosing at the fabric of Josh’s underwear as he inhaled the fresh, soapy smell of Josh’s body wash. The drummer let out a strangled noise that barely escaped the back of his throat and Tyler grinned. Flustering Josh was a favorite pastime.

The pianist hooked a couple fingers on the waistband of Josh’s briefs and shimmied them down, allowing his half-hard dick to spring upwards.

Tyler bit his lip. Something about finally getting to see Josh up close made their union well worth the wait. Josh was, well, super cute. Tyler told him so.

“Dude, please don’t,” Josh begged, face splotchy red. 

“You are,” the singer pressed on, mouth watering. He leaned forward and licked the tip that was coated in excess skin. 

Using his teeth, he gently tugged on the foreskin, playing with Josh’s sex. 

“W-what are you—?” Josh gasped, toes curling in his socks.

“Just lovin’ on you, dude,” Tyler answered, simply, before sucking all of Josh into his mouth with a loud slurp.

“ _Ngh_!” 

Tyler’s slender nose buried itself into dark, curly pubic hair as he gave Josh the best head of his life. It wasn’t sloppy, like Josh guessed it would be. It was calculated and exact, like Tyler was. In retrospect, it made sense that Tyler would be in complete motor control. He hadn’t gagged yet, not that Josh was really doing much movement on his end. It was more like, _‘holy fuck, Tyler Joseph is giving me head, Tyler Joseph is giving me head’_. Josh ran a hand through the tufts of cedar colored hair and tightened his grip as he caught a glimpse of plump cerise lips wrapping around his cock. Tyler’s mouth was warm and wet, and well, _Tyler’s_. It was too much. Josh was gonna fucking come and though it had been all but three minutes, this was _so_ much better than his hand and holy _fuck_ Tyler had a tight mouth.

“I’m— fuck— _I’m_ …!” Josh tried articulating. But Tyler was making no signs of pulling off and Josh wasn’t gonna push him off, no way. No way in Hell. 

And then he was coming down his best friend’s throat and it was _glorious_ , God it was glorious.

 

After a moment of both men trying to catch their breath, Tyler pulled a jizz-coated hand out of his sweats. 

“ _Fuck_.”

* * *

The summer breeze was soothing as the guys headed back to Columbus sometime later that week. The Regional at Best Tour had wrapped and Tyler was at the wheel, Josh riding shotgun with Mark and Michael in the back telling some anecdote from the last show they played. Tyler's hand was on Josh's knee, rubbing soft circles into the jean, and Josh was freestyling a beat on the dashboard. Wondering if two people could put on enough of a show was the last thing on Tyler’s mind because Josh was the answer. They probably would never make it onto the radio, and they quite possibly were gonna be laying on a mattress in the back of a van for the rest of their lives. But they were going to put on the best show they could muster. Josh and Tyler. twenty one pilots.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @leave-the-city


End file.
